


Have To Talk

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: The Surrogate [2]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: NY
Genre: Bromance, Family, Friendship, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Greg Sanders, Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-10
Updated: 2010-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has something to tell Nick and can’t get the words out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have To Talk

_‘Hey Greg, what’s up?’ Nick’s voice sounded through the earpiece._

_Greg shut his eyes and swallowed. ‘I have to talk to you…’_

* * *

“Have to talk” are the three of the most foreboding words in the English language.  It’s the kind of phrase that tells you that a major bombshell is about to be dropped straight onto your head, whether you had seen it coming or not.  Where you just know there’s a huge chance that your life is about to be turned upside down and everything you believe in is about to be called into question.  It’s also the type of phrase that usually comes from the mouth of ones significant other – be it boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, lover… So when the words drifted from the earpiece of my phone at 6 a.m., not long after a ten hour shift at work and in the form of my best friend of almost a decade’s voice, I have to admit it kind of came out of left field for me.

It worried me.  He sounded so scared.  Whatever it was, it was life altering.  It was serious.  And it was potentially worse than the whole Demetrius James incident.

‘I’ll be right over,’ I said and hung up the phone.  I quickly threw on a jacket and shoes, snagged my wallet, keys, and cell phone from the coffee table and practically ran to my truck.  I reached his townhouse in record time – luckily not having been pulled over or caused any accidents.  As I walked to the front door I searched through the somewhat large number of keys on my key ring (many of them kept merely for sentimental value, such as the copies for both Sara and Greg’s old apartments, Grissom’s house, and – he felt a small pang in his chest – Warrick’s old car key.)  I located Greg’s townhouse key and let myself in. ‘Greg?’ I called.

‘Up here,’ the younger man replied. I followed the voice upstairs, frowning at the way it cracked a bit.  I found him sitting on the edge of his bed looking for all the world like someone just shot his dog – which obviously hadn’t happened as I’d seen Dax on the floor of the computer room on my way by, his tail thumping on the floor, wagging it as he slept.

‘Hey, man,’ I said softly and took a seat next to him.

‘Hey.’ It was clipped as though his emotions were trying to overcome him.  He wiped his palms on his pants nervously, not able to meet my gaze for long.

‘Y’alright, G?’ He grinned when my accent leaned more toward my Texan style.  He took a shaky breath and clamped his hands together, still not meeting my eyes. ‘Greg?’ I prompted. ‘You’re startin’ to worry me.’

‘I, um…’ Greg stared straight ahead and suddenly looked like he was going to be sick.  He clamped a hand over his mouth and darted from the room.

‘Greg?’ I followed him into the bathroom as he bent over the toilet bowl and lost whatever he had in his stomach.  I rubbed his back until he was finished and got a damp facecloth for him when he was done.  He smiled weakly in thanks before standing up.  I smiled back and was turning to exit the bathroom when I saw something on the counter that I’d least expected to find in Greg’s bathroom.  Now, having six older sisters, there were many things I’d learned well in life before I’d even graduated high school.  One such thing was being able to recognize a pregnancy test.  I picked it up before Greg could begin to stop me.

‘Oh, uh… I… well…’ Greg stammered with trying to find something to say, most likely in attempt to distract me from the test in my hand.  I may not have ever had to actually read one of these before but I was pretty certain that the little plus sign meant ‘positive’.

‘You’re pregnant?’ I asked, a little surprised.  Not in a bad way, but in a happy for him unexpected way.  He started gasping for air and, startled, I put the test down and grabbed hold of him before his hyperventilating caused him to pitch forward in a dead faint. ‘Greg!’

I carried him into his bedroom and laid him on the bed just as he was coming to. ‘Nick?’ he was a bit disoriented.

‘Hey you,’ I said softly, a small grin on my lips.

‘Nick, what…’ I could see it in his eyes when he remembered what had just happened.  He took a sharp intake of air. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry…’ he sat up and covered his face with his hands.  He was starting to panic again.

‘Greg,’ I said, trying to get his attention. I tried again. ‘Greg? Calm down hon, breathe.’ I held onto his shoulders so he was facing me.  He took a deep breath. ‘That’s it, just breathe, baby, nice and slow. Think calming thoughts.’ I grinned. ‘Think Sara in a sundress.’

He let out a startled laugh. ‘I though you said calming,’ he quipped. ‘That image might just give me a heart attack.’

I laughed. ‘It wouldn’t be _that_ shocking to see.’

‘Wanna bet?’ he smiled.

I loved his smiles.  I may have never actually told anyone – myself included – how I honestly felt about him, but it was true none the less.  Something I’d really been coming to terms with in the last six months.  These days it was just a matter of getting the words out properly.

‘So, now that your oxygen intake is a little closer to normal, what are we going to do?’

‘Do?’ he frowned in confusion.

‘Well, I mean it is ultimately your decision, it’s your body after all. But are we going to keep it?’

Greg stared at me uncomprehendingly for a good minute or two.  He really was adorable when he was confused.  And he did a decent impression of a goldfish. ‘We?’

I grinned again. ‘Well, why not?’

‘You-…’ He took a shaky breath. ‘You _want_ to?’

My grin softened. ‘Do you?’

He looked taken aback.  He leaned back into the pillows, a thoughtful look on his face.  His hands came to rest over where our child – yes, I realized it was mine about as soon as I realized he was pregnant, I’m not a _complete_ moron – was growing.  I watched as the emotions in his eyes went from thoughtful to happy and finally to scared.  His hold on his stomach turned protective. ‘I don’t know,’ he said in a small voice.  I lay down next to him and pulled him into a comforting embrace.

‘Well, whatever you decide, I’ll be right here,’ I promised, wiping the tear that fell from one eye.

* * *

We’d had many discussions after that.  He told me everything.  About the emotional turmoil he’d been put through over the years.  About his fear of going through this for himself and worry over whether or not he’d be able to deal.  After the nature of his three deliveries and the miscarriage he was afraid his body was too old and used to handle the physical stress of it again.

During one discussion he’d laughed a bit when I’d asked him if he’d gotten pregnant after the first time we’d slept together years ago.  It was a bit shocking for him to reply with ‘Lindsay Willows looks nothing like you’ but after explaining it I laughed too.

It’s been a long journey since that day we found out.  Our son is turning five next week and our daughter is two and a half.  After Greg gave birth to our second child I got a vasectomy.  After six pregnancies Greg’s body wasn’t able to handle the stress any longer.  I’d almost lost both he and our daughter a number of times while he’d been pregnant.  He’d originally been carrying twins but one aborted early on.

But I’m fortunate.  Three years later and my lover and two children are alive and happy and healthy.

Catherine Willows and (of all people) David Hodges are our son Rick’s godparents.  Our daughter was named Jen at the request of her godfather Don Flack, and Sara Sidle was named her godmother.

I smile as I watch the only man I’ve ever truly loved tuck in our soon to be five-year-old son.

And I’m thankful for everything he’s given me.

\- 30 -


End file.
